Archive for February, 2011

I’m not good with change. At age forty-five I don’t see this getting any better either, I only see it getting worse. I don’t consider this a negative attribute by the way, I just know myself and I accept me as I am. I think a psychologist would call this, “positive self acceptance” in psycho-babble speak.

When it is time to change and upgrade to a new cell phone, you will find me in extreme agitation; I don’t transition well. Additionally, just when I understand how to use a computer, it dies and I am forced to learn a new one. This is enough to cause me to adjust my blood pressure medicine.

Moreover, and this is big, I don’t really WANT to understand technology. Is it too much to ask for the device to work just the way that I want without making me learning all about it? I don’t care how many giga-bytes or mondo-bytes it has…can I get Facebook and will my email be super fast??? These are the important questions.

The need for all this technology is just hitting me in that difficult stage of my life…say it with me everyone, “The Change”. I wondered about that when I was younger; what the heck was it? I have since learned that it is the stage where at any given moment you are in danger of bursting into blames. You might possibly have Impromptu Tourettes Syndrome (ITS) or you could also become like that freaky girl in the movie the Exorcist whose head spins around and she spits up split pea soup.

It’s all good; you’ll love THE CHANGE.

My husband Mike is a great guy and I have no reason to ever complain about him, but I’m not going to let that stop me. We are both Type A, first-born personalities and therein the troubles lie; we both think that we are always right, it is a constant battle of will with us.

He thinks he knows the only one perfect way to load the dishwasher; so I always let him. In fact, when I load the dishes he will actually go in behind me and reload them in the way that he thinks makes more sense. To that I say, “Knock yourself out!” If he cares so much how the dishes should be loaded, who am I to tell him not to do the work?

He tells me that I don’t iron the way that it should be done so he took over that chore as well until he ran out of time. Who cares if there are two creases down the sleeves of a dress shirt? Shouldn’t the fact that the shirts are creased be enough? Who is he trying to impress anyway? We solved this battle by taking the dress shirts to the cleaners.

Mike’s newest domestic hobby is putting those compact fluorescent light bulbs in all the rooms of our house. I hate those curly looking things. I don’t care that they are green or that they are better for our environment or any of the other things that people make up about them. They look stupid and they take forever to warm up. Why do we have to change the way that a light bulb looks? Haven’t they looked great since they were invented in 1879?

Mike placed those light bulbs in our kid’s bathroom and the only great thing is if you need to turn the light on in the middle of the night when your eyes are adjusting to the light. If you are running in for a quick touch up on your make-up, forget it. It’ll take at least five minutes before they warm up enough to see what you are doing. If you want to look like a hooker, go in there to get your eyes done. I bet hookers love those light bulbs. If any of you reading this are hookers and you agree, please write in and tell me what you think. About the light bulbs, that is.

Anyway, I like old things, I like things the way that they were. I enjoy antiques and I like décor in my house that looks old fashioned even when it’s not. To that end I chose wall sconces for our family room that look like old rustic lanterns. I thought they added something to the character and ambience of the room; the fact that they were attractive and functional was a positive thing.

The other day, I went into the family room and you guessed it: Mike had removed the light bulbs and replaced them with compact fluorescent light bulbs. This ignited an episode of Hormonal Rage- I burst into flames, started cussing a blue streak and hurled insults across the room. Good thing there was no one across the room. Who does he think he is?

My lanterns don’t look old fashioned anymore, they look ridiculous! Please no one point out to me that if they were real lanterns there would be NO light bulb in the lantern, maybe just whale oil or kerosene. I’m not stupid, I know that!

Mike has gone too far. He can take over “my” dishes and “my” ironing, but step one inch into my domain of home décor and he is going to rue the day.

Hell hath no fury like a woman forced to change. Thus began a monumental fight in this house over what he thinks he is allowed to “decorate” and the way it actually should be. If he knows what’s good for him he will change those light bulbs back.

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